The fight was over in less than two minutes, but the noise from the crowd lingered like thunder after a storm.
Rey stepped through the ropes, his boots landing with a soft thud on the apron. He hopped down onto the floor, his gloves still up but his eyes low. The blinding arena lights faded behind him as he made his way down the narrow hallway toward the locker rooms. Each step seemed to drum against his heartbeat.
His coach trailed a few steps behind, muttering, "Too damn quick again, kid… too damn quick." His voice carried that mix of frustration and pride only an old trainer could pull off.
The hallway smelled different now — less of sweat and resin, more of damp concrete and the faint chemical sting of disinfectant. The chant of the crowd was muffled but still present, bleeding in through the cinderblock walls.
Rey pushed open the heavy door to the locker room. The hinges groaned. The room was smaller than it looked in his head — walls painted an unconvincing shade of beige, cracked in places where someone had probably slammed a locker door too hard.
Jayden was already there, leaning casually against a row of lockers, arms crossed over his chest. A towel hung loose around his neck, and his eyes held that familiar mixture of amusement and challenge.
"Well," Jayden said, his voice smooth and a little mocking, "you really let the guy have it this time. That uppercut… whew." He let out a low whistle, tapping his chin as if replaying the knockout in his mind. "Think he'll remember your name when he wakes up?"
Rey smirked faintly but didn't answer right away. He sat on the bench, pulling at the Velcro straps of his gloves. Each sound of tearing fabric seemed louder than it should have been.
"You hear it?" Rey asked finally.
Jayden frowned. "Hear what?"
Rey glanced up from under his hair. "A sound… in the ring. Right before I hit him. Like…" He hesitated, searching for the word. "…like a growl."
Jayden chuckled, shaking his head. "That's just the crowd, bro. They get loud. You know that."
"No," Rey said, more firmly this time. His eyes narrowed slightly. "It wasn't them."
The coach stepped in, dropping Rey's water bottle on the bench. "You're overthinking it," he said gruffly. "You hit hard, he went down. That's the story. Leave it at that." He started unlacing Rey's boots, his hands moving with the practiced speed of years in the game.
Rey didn't argue, but his jaw tightened. He looked away toward the far wall where the fluorescent light buzzed faintly. The sound made his skin prickle.
Jayden pushed off the locker and stepped closer. His tone softened. "Hey… you okay? You've been off lately. Ever since…" He didn't finish the sentence, but Rey knew what he meant — ever since the last fight. The one that had ended more than just a winning streak.
Rey shrugged, forcing a light tone. "I'm fine."
But his hand, still in the half-unwrapped glove, curled into a fist.
The coach stood, tossing the unlaced boots aside. "Fine or not, you're fighting again next month. The crowd loves you. Just… try to make it last more than a round, huh?" He chuckled, though it didn't quite hide his concern.
Rey started peeling the tape from his hands, the adhesive pulling at the fine hairs on his skin. Each strip came off with a soft rrrip, and every sound seemed amplified in his ears.
Jayden tilted his head, watching him. "You ever think maybe you're too good?"
Rey looked up, caught off guard. "Too good?"
"Yeah," Jayden said, leaning against the bench. "Like… maybe you're not just better than these guys. Maybe you're built different." He gave a crooked grin, but his eyes searched Rey's face for a reaction.
Rey didn't answer right away. He just stared at his own bare knuckles, flexing his fingers slowly. In the harsh fluorescent light, the veins stood out darker than usual, almost black.
For a brief second, the air seemed to thicken — like the room itself was holding its breath. Somewhere, faint but clear, Rey thought he heard it again.
The growl.